


Who do you save, John?

by Gumnut



Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Alan!whump, Angst, Blood, Brothers, Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Series, Tracys in suits, Virgil!Whump, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:27:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 16,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26232667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gumnut/pseuds/Gumnut
Summary: Jeff and his boys go for a suit fitting. They get interrupted.
Comments: 28
Kudos: 83





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title: Who do you save, John?
> 
> Author: Gumnut
> 
> 24 Aug – 8 Sep 2020
> 
> Fandom: Thunderbirds Are Go 2015/ Thunderbirds TOS
> 
> Rating: Teen
> 
> Summary: Jeff and his boys go for a suit fitting. They get interrupted.
> 
> Word count: ~17,000
> 
> Spoilers & warnings: blood, Virgil!whump, Alan!whump
> 
> Timeline: Post season 3
> 
> Author's note: Nutty's Fandomversary 2020 Fic Five. For @5hadow-alpha because they wanted Shopping and a Tracy brother. They got more than one, and I got more than I expected.
> 
> Many thanks to @scribbles97 @i-am-chidorixblossom and @godsliltippy for listening to my crazy. And many, many thanks to the Thunderfam for your amazing support. You carry me to greater heights ::hugs you all::
> 
> Disclaimer: Mine? You've got to be kidding. Money? Don't have any, don't bother.
> 
> -o-o-o-

Jeff leant on his cane and held his tongue.

His eldest was quietly juggling small talk as they waited for the assistant to bring out the finished product. Gordon and Alan were discussing something about a toy fish far too loudly to be polite, John was talking to Eos via his tablet and Virgil was eyeing Jeff with suspicion like he always was – as if his father might break if Virgil took those worried brown eyes off him.

An internal sigh.

It was a family day out. Well, it was supposed to be. A simple follow up trip to the tailors to collect and check the fitting of their suits. When he suggested they do this together, there had been a few odd expressions, but ultimately, his boys had jumped at the opportunity.

His mother had arched an eyebrow with enough angle to give Jeff the suspicion that this was very unusual. A quick question to her later that night, and his suspicions had been confirmed.

His boys hated shopping.

But this was a different kind of purchase. It was time to spend together as father and sons. Something he yearned for.

The fitting last month had gone really well. He had enjoyed spending time with his boys away from International Rescue. Getting to know each of them. Watching them interact as brothers.

If he was honest, the eldest boys hadn’t changed much in personality. Matured, yes. Taken on more responsibility, of course. But at their core, Scott was still the leader, the hovering, worried older brother. Virgil still had that touch of hero worship for Scott, and rounded up all the others, playing referee to all of them. John was the island he always was until one brother or another cycloned onto his shores and messed with him.

It was the younger two he needed to get to know better.

Something had happened to his little Gordy while he was away. Some things. There were scars on his body that hadn’t been there when Jeff left. His little fish had been through so much injury in his short life…Scott’s quiet voice reported while Virgil stood behind him, so much worry in those brown eyes.

Jeff had enough control not to react. Not until he was alone, late at night, when only Lucy heard his tears.

But there was a gold medal on Gordon’s wall. With the injuries came the triumphs, the list of lives saved.

Including his own.

He had nearly lost a son to Gaat.

Nearly.

He straightened where he stood and shifted his cane.

Of course, this just prompted Virgil to take a step closer, that familiar frown crumpling his brow.

“I’m okay, Virgil.”

The quiet statement interrupted Scott and his small talk. The commander flicked a glance between the two of them, narrowing on Virgil.

Jeff watched a silent communication bounce between them.

Virgil took a step back.

Scott turned back to the tailor, his gaze skipping over Jeff to focus back on the conversation.

Jeff swallowed.

Virgil was still watching.

Another internal sigh. His second eldest was a damned mind reader.

Okay, so he wasn’t feeling the best today. He had days like that. Days where gravity was too much. Days where people were too much. Days where memories were too much. He was getting used to tackling them and they were getting less frequent. Today wasn’t a particularly bad one and he was determined not to miss out this rare precious time with his boys.

“You okay, Dad?” Alan bounced beside him, as always, a ball of energy. His fingers brushed against Jeff’s arm, bright eyes peering up at him.

A half smile. “I’m okay, Allie. Just a little on the achy side today.”

In his peripheral vision, brown eyes across the room narrowed.

“You wanna sit down?” Alan pointed at one of the many chairs in the room.

“No, I’m better standing. Thank you, son.”

Alan eyed him sideways. “Virg, bugging you?”

That prompted a proper sigh. “He means well.”

“Well, if you ever need to hide, I know some good spots.”

“Alan!” Gordon shuffled over and poked him in the ribs. “That’s classified information.”

“Dad, needs our help, Gords.”

The aquanaut eyed his father suspiciously. “How do we know he won’t collude with the enemy in the future.”

Jeff arched an eyebrow. “Since when is Virgil ‘the enemy’?”

“See, that’s what I mean. Allie, you’re risking our security.”

“It sounds like the both of you have been risking your health and making your brother’s job harder.” He frowned at his two youngest sons. “Do you do the same to your grandmother?”

Both boys opened their mouths, but perhaps fortunately for them, they were interrupted by the tailor as the assistant brought out their six brand new suits.

Jeff eyed his youngest as Gordon poked him in the ribs again and whispered in his ear as they hurried off. Alan glared at his fish brother and got noogie for his efforts.

No, perhaps his boys may have matured, but they really weren’t that different.

He followed them into the dressing rooms, the tailor himself holding Jeff’s suit.

“Do you need any assistance, sir?”

“No, William, thank you. I can manage.” He shut the door and pushed the rest of the world out.

He needed a moment.

He threw himself into one of the two chairs in the small room.

The decor was on the opulent side. They paid top dollar for this service and the trappings reflected it. His mind threw up the first suit shop he had attended in Kansas. He had been looked up and down as a country hick. The price had been steep then, but was now less than pocket change.

He had come a long way.

Until eight years ago.

Then he was just a long way away.

He cut off that train of thought. Down that way lay depression and lost opportunities. They had no place here today.

Today was about his boys.

He forced himself to his feet, ignoring the ever present aches and focussed on dressing himself without falling on his face.

No doubt, Virgil, or even Scott, would be hovering outside his door shortly.

He made as quick work of the suit as possible. The dark grey material was soft and comfortable, the most subtle stripe emphasizing his shoulders and distracting from his drop in muscle tone.

A temporary thing.

He would get it back.

Eight years was a long time.

“Dad, you okay in there?”

He rolled his eyes. Scott this time. “Nearly done. I will be out shortly.”

It was like he was the child and Scott and Virgil were his parents.

His mother had just laughed when he mentioned it to her. “Honey, your sons are strong. They have become what they needed to be. Give them time to find their places again. Give yourself time.”

He sighed. Patience was something he had learnt while stranded.

Didn’t mean he had to like it.

He tied his shoes and stood up, grabbing his cursed walking stick.

The man in the mirror appeared professional, poised and, with the cane, a little regal.

The man inside felt anything but.

His eyes stared at him.

Haunted grey.

He shook himself. Focus.

With straight shoulders, he grabbed the door handle and strode out to face his children.

-o-o-o-


	2. Chapter 2

Alan stood in front of the mirror in his change room and stared at himself.

It was a nice suit. Not really his thing, more a necessary evil, but it made him look good. He’d chosen a lighter coloured suit than his brothers. Lighter than even Gordon, who had always preferred the brighter colours.

He straightened the jacket and his eyes caught on the painting on the wall behind him.

Scott had stood there.

Alan blinked, remembering his big brother smiling at him in the mirror, standing in for their father as his youngest shouldered on his first suit jacket.

Okay, technically it wasn’t his first, he couldn’t be a Tracy without being familiar with suits, but that day had been special. Along with the suit, it had seen the fitting of his first IR uniform.

And Scott had been there. Just the two of them. It had been special.

Now he was here with all his brothers…and his father.

It was special again, but for entirely different reasons.

“You okay in there, Allie?”

Scott. Of course, it was Scott.

“Be right out.”

“Okay.”

Being the youngest of five apparently orphaned brothers had its challenges.

Being the youngest of five brothers who had just rescued their father from the depths of space after eight years in hell had even more.

Not that he would ever wish for the alternative. It was amazing to have his father back. It was almost beyond believable.

But Dad had disappeared when he was eleven and memories were fragile. A lot had happened while he was gone and during that time, Alan had turned to Scott, to Virgil, to all his brothers in some way. And while he was the youngest and technically needed the most parenting, he wasn’t that young anymore. He was eighteen. An adult.

It wasn’t that Dad was a stranger. He was still Dad. He still loved him…desperately. But Dad hadn’t been here. Even if it hadn’t been by choice, he still hadn’t been here. Scott was the one who stood with him. Virgil was the one who plastered his scrapes. Johnny was the one who helped him with his homework. Gordon had taught him to swim.

And if he was totally honest with himself, it had always been that way as long as he could remember.

Dad was Dad and he loved him.

But Scott was the one who was there.

Alan sighed and let his shoulders drop before reaching for the door.

Sure enough, Scott was in the presentation room fully dressed and waiting. His big brother could strip and change clothes faster than anyone he knew.

Of course, their everyday clothes were designed that way, specially seamed for robotics to literally pull them from their bodies at high speed and replace them with their uniforms, but this was different and Scott was just damned fast.

His big brother’s suit was a dark blue. All his suits were blue. Various shades, but in the majority deep blue or blue-grey. It was a Scott Tracy symbol. Featured on the front of GQ and Variety, the trend for blue suits was higher than ever and all his brother’s fault.

Mostly because he wore them so well. Alan was baffled as to how he kept himself so sharp and neat. Alan looked at his pants the wrong way and the creases kinked and the crotch rode up. Scott was just...pristine.

Alan screwed up his nose at him.

Of course, that only prompted his big brother to stride over and straighten his collar. “Looking good there, Allie.”

Alan batted his hands away. “I got this, Scott.”

The smirk he received for that was totally unjustified. “Just making sure.” Blue eyes so much like his own sparkled at him.

Alan poked his tongue out.

“Mature, Allie.” But his brother was grinning.

Another door opened behind them and Virgil was fumbling his jacket on. This time it was a charcoal black, quite a step from the deep purple ensemble he had somehow managed to pull off the last time he bought one of these outfits.

His artist brother had obviously put some thought in this time because under the charcoal was a shirt of a very deep green. It did something with his brother’s eyes. Alan wasn’t sure what or why, but his bro looked good.

Virgil buttoned his suit jacket and stood in front of Alan, eyeing him from head to toe.

Alan mock glared at him. “Do I meet with your approval?”

One callused hand reached over and fiddled with his collar.

Oh, for crying out loud. “Virg!”

Virgil grinned and snorted at him, the hand switching to his shoulder and squeezing gently. “You look great, Allie.”

Hmph. Alan looked at him sideways, not willing to give any ground, but then...hmph. “You’re not too bad yourself.”

One dark eyebrow arched and Virgil smiled. “Thanks.” He opened his mouth to say more, but both Gordon and John emerged at the same time.

“Gordon, where are your shoes?” Scott’s exasperation in this building was not a new thing.

The aquanaut shrugged. “Forgot them.”

Alan looked down to find his brother wearing his everyday casual slip-on sandals. Gordon sported a charcoal suit similar to Virgil’s and Alan had no doubt their big brother had stuck his opinion in onto Gordon’s choice as it was blatantly _not_ a Gordon choice.

But then Gordon choices were usually eyeball scorchers, so it was probably a good thing. The fish was being catered to, however, as the shirt that accompanied the suit was ocean blue and had a subtle texture to it. Alan had no doubt that if he got closer, he would discover some kind of octopus of dolphin or some other sea life emblem worked into the fabric.

It wouldn’t be the first time.

Virgil had definitely had a hand in John’s outfit. Not blue, not charcoal, but more a deep turquoise, his fellow space brother was tall and austere with his gold shirt. That colour combination had Virgil written all over it simply because John couldn’t be trusted to compile his own.

The brown and orange combination from five years ago had scarred all of them.

Standing beside his brothers he had to say they were all looking good.

John started playing with his tablet again.

What on earth was he doing?

That train of thought was interrupted by his father emerging from the changing rooms.

All his brothers automatically shifted to some kind of attention.

This was the first time they had seen their father in a suit in over eight years.

Dad straightened. He was ever so tall. Scott and John obviously inherited his height, but neither had inherited his build. Only Virgil had that, even if Virg was only a little taller than Gords.

Their father was a force unto himself, even injured and still showing the signs of his isolation, the man had presence.

He was kind of daunting at the best of times. In a suit...man, Alan could see how his father had made his place in business. He oozed charisma.

At least Scott had come by it honestly.

That thought froze his mind a moment. Scott’s charisma was different, lighter, less forbidding unless he was fully in command. There was a gentle side to his big brother.

He knew there was a softer side to his father, too, but standing here and seeing him in that grey suit...the man was formidable.

Beside Alan, Scott shuffled his feet and swallowed audibly. “Good choice, Dad.”

Their father smiled a little and tilted his head. “Only took Virgil’s advice.”

Of course, everyone turned to stare at the engineer.

“What?”

“Adding fashion designer to your resume, Virg?” Gordon was grinning.

Virgil scrunched up his face. “Well, someone has to. You certainly don’t have a clue.”

“What was wrong with my choice? I liked it.”

“It was bright yellow, Gordon.”

“Yeah, one of my favourite colours.”

“Not the best for a board meeting, though, is it?”

Gordon shrugged. “Depends.”

“On what?” Virg was glaring at the fish.

“On taste and other people’s lack of it.”

“Not yours?”

“Virgil-“

“Hey!” Scott’s voice cut them both off. “That’s enough.”

And it was, because William and his assistants were hovering, waiting to check the fit of each suit.

Alan found himself up on a stand, an assistant with the name ‘Timothy’ pinned to his chest. He didn’t say much, but his fingers were nimble checking seams and lengths.

“Thanks for doing this.” A little politeness never hurt.

Timothy looked up at him, but didn’t say anything. He stared at moment, eyes appraising, before turning back to his work.

Oh, well, not everyone wanted to talk.

Alan let him do his job from that point on.

On his right Gordon squawked. “Ow, that’s human you’re stabbing.”

“I am so sorry, sir. That was accidental.” A pause. “Could you please hold still, sir.”

“Gordon.” His brother’s name wandered over in warning from the other side of the room where Scott was standing with his arms stretched out as yet another assistant fiddled with his suit.

Beside him, their father snorted. “Gordon still can’t sit still?”

Scott rolled his eyes. “That’s never going to happen.”

Dad grinned over at Gordy as his fish brother protested. “Hey! I seem to remember an older brother with a similar problem. Solved it with rocket fuel.”

“He’s got you there, son.” His father shifted his cane as his assistant fiddled with his pant length.

Scott rolled his eyes again. “Well, at least we both came by it honestly.”

That prompted a snort from Virgil on his other side.

Perhaps it was the family banter that distracted Alan, perhaps Timothy was just that good, but when the gun appeared, none of them were ready.

-o-o-o-


	3. Chapter 3

Anthony was nervous.

He fiddled with his stunner and shifted his feet.

His palms were all sweaty.

It was understandable, of course. It wasn’t everyday he betrayed one of the most powerful families on the planet.

His eyes tracked the edges of the closed door. No sound came from within, but he had no doubt there was something happening.

He rolled his shoulders.

He only had to do two things and he was home cruising.

Literally. He was pretty sure he could buy his own island after this.

He might need to.

Kayo was going to be a problem.

He shook himself. First problem first. He’d worry about the next one once he was a millionaire.

His comms went off. “Tony, check in.”

Gerald, team leader. Keep it steady, Anthony, you’ve got this.

His fingers touched the glowing IR on his security black baldric. “All clear.”

He smiled in anticipation.

“I repeat, all clear.”

-o-o-o-

The room froze.

Jeff stared at what appeared to be a gun being held on his youngest son. The young tailor’s assistant stepped back from Alan, but the gun did not waver.

“I ask you all to stay where you are for the moment.” He waved the odd looking weapon around, but kept it trained on Alan. “Or the youngest gets hurt.”

Alan, still dressed in his suit, stared wide eyed at the man before his glance shot to Scott.

Beside Jeff, Scott had tensed like a bowstring.

“Nuh-uh, Scott Tracy. I wouldn’t do anything if I were you.”

Scott’s fists curled into white-knuckled steel. “What do you want?”

The man didn’t even flicker. “Justice.” A tilt of his chin. “But I think we should lay some ground rules. First, there’s no help, so don’t bother trying. Second, you do as I say or I’ll knock you off your plush perches one by one. Third...” His eyes narrowed on Jeff’s middle son. “I want answers.”

John blinked but didn’t say anything.

The man obviously wasn’t dumb. He wasn’t too close to any of them, for starters. Even Alan had had training from Kayo and knew how to take down an assailant.

That had certainly been an eyeopener. His young almost-daughter had taken after her father in more ways than one. To see her take down each of his sons one after the other had been a show. Scott in particular. Gordon had been the surprise contender, holding his own much longer than any of his brothers.

But then Gordon had been surprising Jeff since he made it home.

“What is your question?” Scott said it through gritted teeth.

Cold eyes flickered to the commander on Jeff’s left. “I want to know why?”

“Why what?”

Those eyes flickered back to John. “Why you let my family die.”

There was a silence after that. Each of his sons stood on their platforms in their suits staring at the man holding an oddly shaped gun on Alan. The remaining five tailoring staff were mostly on the ground or against the walls. William himself stood in one corner, an expression of horror on his face.

At least Alan appeared calm. Perhaps his eyes were a little wider than usual, but Jeff felt a swell of pride as those eyes swept their opponent, obviously assessing him.

With a need to take control of the situation, Jeff gripped his cane and took a step forward off his platform. His terrified assistant stared up at him with wild eyes as he shifted aside to give him room.

He took another step towards the armed man. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to give us more detail than that.”

“Dad-“ Scott’s voice was calm, but he could read the worry in his expression without looking in his son’s direction.

“Scott, I’m just asking for further information.” His cane sunk into the carpet as he took up a spot in front of...he frowned at the man’s badge...Timothy. “Who are we talking about?”

Timothy’s eyes narrowed. “You’re their father. You’re in charge-“

“No.” It was sharp and firm and suddenly Scott was standing beside him. “No. Decisions in the field are my responsibility.”

Jeff shifted his cane just a little, dragging it into a position in front of Scott, blocking his immediate ability to step forward. “It’s okay, son. I’m fully aware of where my responsibility lies.”

“Dad-“

The gun was suddenly pointed at Jeff. “No. It’s not either of you. You may think it is you who decides who lives or dies, but you’re wrong.

Out the corner of his eye, Jeff saw a hand signal pass between Scott and Alan. The latter stepped back a little and then off his platform towards the wall and began edging around the room ever so quietly.

As if summoned, Virgil stepped up beside Jeff on his other side, his son’s movement drawing the gunman’s attention away from Alan even more.

Timothy eyed Virgil warily before turning his attention back to Jeff. The gun did not waiver once. “Only one of you makes that decision. I heard him make it. The great Voice Who Answers, the Eye in the Sky, the man who thinks he’s GOD.” That last was snarled at volume.

“You want to speak to me.” Clear and precise, John stayed where he was, dressed in his brand new suit atop his platform.

Timothy curled a lip in his direction. “You bet your bloody-minded ass, I do.”

-o-o-o-


	4. Chapter 4

“It’s triage, son.”

The words, said so many years ago, formed in the back of his throat as the memory surfaced.

Jeff stared at his middle son. Carrot red hair, tall, pale, eyes that shone with intelligence. He had never been able to keep up with John. Jeff was no slacker in the academic department, but he wasn’t like John.

While his genius was applied to the stars and the technology that got him there, the genius itself was all Lucy.

Quiet, gentle and ever so smart, John was a mix of Jeff’s passions and Lucy’s brilliance.

And god, he loved him.

He had been so eager to climb into his Thunderbird, to live in space amongst the stars he adored.

Jeff’s heart hurt at the price his son had to pay for that life.

All his sons suffered in some way to make International Rescue work and they all gave willingly, but Jeff remembered that late night over storm affected comms... “Dad, its hard.”

Jeff had been alone in the brand new comms room. A cyclone was roaring outside. His eldest two were down in the hangars, unable to sleep any more than he had been with the Island vibrating with thunder and rain.

Jeff had chosen the moment to check his diary, only to discover his third child hovering in the middle of the room.

“We can’t respond, son. The cyclone has us grounded.”

John’s head dropped. “I know. It’s just...”

“We can only do our best. We can’t save everyone.”

Those young turquoise eyes caught his. Lips tight, his little Johnny had nodded once and blinked out.

He had thought of that moment many times since. It symbolised what he had sent his son to do, the burden he had placed on those young shoulders. Willing shoulders, but inexperienced.

Those same eyes now were anything but. As John stared down at the gunman, his expression was controlled and ever so professional.

His little Johnny was gone.

And in his place stood a Thunderbird.

“What do you want to know?” John didn’t move. It was obvious he wanted the gunman to come to him, make him do his bidding in a fight for control.

It worked.

Timothy didn’t take his aim away from Jeff, but he did take a step forward. “I want to know why you let my family die.”

John didn’t react, still ever so calm. “What’s your name?”

“My father’s name was Benedict. My mother’s name was Mary. My little sister, who was six years old, you asshole, was Elizabeth. And you let them die.”

Still no reaction. “Where?”

“Surrey.”

“When?”

“13 May 2060.”

Beside Jeff, Scott flinched. “The Tsunami Disaster.” It was like the words could not be contained and they fell from his eldest’s lips unbidden.

Timothy spun and faced Scott. “Yes, the Tsunami Disaster. But that wasn’t the only disaster that day.” Anguish appeared on the man’s face and Jeff got a glimpse of what was truly driving him. “I called you.” His eyes turned back to John. “But you refused to send help.”

John still didn’t react. “We have limited resources. We help where we can and that day was extremely busy.” The smallest of cracks in his son’s facade. “Many died. We can’t save everyone.”

“She loved you! She followed you. She had models of your ships hanging from her bedroom ceiling. She wanted to JOIN you when she grew up and you let her die!”

“I’m sorry for your loss-“

“Are you? Are you really?” The man took another step forward. “Do you have any idea how many people die every day because International Rescue does not attend?”

Jeff’s eyes widened. “You can’t blame us for-“

The gun shook with the man’s anger. “Oh, I can. I can blame you for not being enough. I can blame you for hoarding your technologies. I can blame you for preventing more people from being saved because of your own selfish agenda. I can blame you as much as I bloody want!”

Jeff stared at him. The man was obviously driven, obviously on the edge and unstable, but also far from stupid. There was sharp calculation in those eyes.

“I called you. I called you again. I kept calling and you stopped answering. You refused to save my family.” That last came out almost a sob, the gun shaking more than ever. “I want to know why.”

“Resour-“

But he cut John off. “No. No, you don’t get to explain it away.” The man shook his head. “A Thunderbird is a Thunderbird. I want to know what makes one family more important than another. Why my _sister_ wasn’t good enough, why she didn’t deserve to be saved.”

“It is not that simple-“

“IT IS!”

John’s expression settled into one of agitated patience.

Timothy’s face was red and his breath rough. “You are going to choose, Voice from the Sky, and show me who is more important.” Timothy held the gun still firmly pointed at Jeff.

Jeff preferred it that way.

Timothy’s free hand was a fist wrapped around something small Jeff couldn’t quite identify.

Beside him, Virgil swore under his breath.

The fist was pointed at Scott. “You, move over there.” To the right.

Scott hesitated, his eyes darting to Jeff a moment before taking those steps.

“You, over by the wall, get over here and stand by his Commandership.”

Alan’s eyes widened, but with a hand signal from Scott, he quietly made his way to his brother’s side.

“You are going to make a choice, Voice from the Sky. These two or these-“

Beside Jeff, Virgil suddenly startled. “No, Gordon!”

From the shadows, almost forgotten, the aquanaut leapt at the gunman, his hand landing on the man’s wrist, spinning him around deflecting his aim.

Scott was moving, Jeff’s two military sons doing what they were trained to do.

But Timothy either saw them coming, or was much more than the crazy man he seemed, because he managed to deflect Gordon and tackle Scott.

But it was Virgil who stepped in front of Jeff, grabbing Alan as he moved to assist and holding up a hand to stop John from joining the fray. “No, stop! He’s got a-“

The gun went off.

-o-o-o-


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Some blood in this chapter and several that follow.

John was shopping.

Well, he claimed to be. This activity did not resemble any of the other processes her father used to ‘shop’. Usually it involved scrolling through garments on the holoprojector until he found something he liked and shed credit tokens to order it.

Attending a family gathering where they all apparently disrobed together wasn’t something he had done before.

This was the second time in a matter of weeks.

And she did not like it at all.

She was well aware of John’s need for privacy, and he had reiterated it at length earlier before cutting her off. Not only was he not speaking to her, but because he was removing his clothes for this ritual, both his body sensors and comms were disconnected and left on the floor of the changing room.

It made her uncomfortable to be out of contact with him for long. She disliked it when he left Thunderbird Five at all. It took him out of her reach, out of her control.

Out of her protection.

John claimed she did not have to worry. It was a tailor’s shop in London. IR security would be on hand. It was a reputable place. All the staff had been vetted thoroughly.

He had warned her off peering through security cameras, reminding her that Virgil still hadn’t forgiven her for surprising him in the shower with a question about his body hair.

If there was a human rules directory somewhere that listed comparing red and black body hair as a faux pas, John was being a neglectful parent for not recommending it to her.

Cultural etiquette was confusing.

Eos wasn’t allowed to peer inside the rooms John and his brothers were currently inhabiting, but that didn’t stop her from skipping between street cams, the hallway security monitors in the residential apartments above the shop.

Two emergency calls came in simultaneously and she automatically sorted them and shunted one to Ethiopian authorities and the other to the London Metropolitan Fire department.

Cass McCready enquired after Virgil, of course. She was moving fast, yelling instructions, but each time International Rescue contacted her, she always had a word for the second eldest Tracy.

Eos excused Virgil by calmly stating that he was currently trying clothes on with his brothers and unavailable at this time.

Ms McCready didn’t answer that.

The brief flurry of activity was quick and it left her still staring down at that building in the middle of London. The fire was unrelated, but Eos kept an eye on it as the MFS attended.

A check in on Kayo, Mrs Tracy, the Mechanic, Hiram...all were fine. She spent an extra moment staring at Kayo. The woman had her knee in someone’s back on the floor. The person appeared not to appreciate it and was using language that Eos had been forbidden to exercise by Mrs Tracy.

Eos could not see why she wasn’t allowed when he was.

But Kayo was in control and had the man secured within seconds.

Eos let out an electronic sigh.

Another skip around the perimeter of the building, dipping into cameras and sensors, there was no sign of threat, just as John expected.

She was still on edge.

She didn’t like it when he was away.

-o-o-o-

It wasn’t loud, but it stopped everything.

Little more than a pop, a flick of warm moisture on his cheek, a sudden hot burning in his arm and a thud into the wall behind him.

Alan staggered.

Timothy threw off Alan’s two brothers. Scott received a kick in his midriff that threw him halfway across the room.

Gordon was backhanded in the face, despite moving so fast he was a blur.

Virgil had a fist in Alan’s shirt, holding him back. Time seemed so slow. The pain in his arm flared.

John was moving in slow motion, his eyes on Alan.

“Stop!” The gun whipped around and pointed at the older astronaut.

The room froze, the only sounds that of harsh breathing.

“He’s...got a detonator.” Virgil’s voice was breathless.

“Yes, I do. So, don’t mess with me.” Timothy glared at a wheezing Scott on the floor, as he waved the appropriate fist at them.

John’s eyes were still on Alan as he reached for Gordon. The aquanaut was clutching his face.

As Virgil let go of him, Alan glanced down at his arm. The suit material was burnt and stained with blood. His own and...

Red flecks sprayed all over the light linen.

Alan’s eyes widened as the bullet’s trajectory formed in his head.

“Virgil!”

His brother turned to him automatically, his body twisting. “Allie, I...” A groan and he staggered. Alan didn’t think, he just moved, grabbing at Virgil, breaking his fall.

Oh, god, oh, god, oh, god...

He was vaguely aware of his father helping him lower his heavy brother to the ground, but Alan had switched to first responder mode, his brain assessing injury, running procedures that were reflex and fast.

Virgil’s charcoal suit had a neat hole on the right side of his chest. It burnt straight through expensive fabric, through the green silk shirt.

Buttons flew as Alan tore off his brother’s clothes, getting to the wound underneath. The entrance wound was nastily neat, only dribbling a trail of blood, but as his father helped roll over his brother, the exit wound was anything but, a pool of blood forming on the dark suit jacket below.

“Allie...” His brother groaned.

“Don’t talk, Virgil.” His voice was sharp.

A sudden tearing of material and Scott’s hand appeared in his peripheral vision full of shirt become bandage. The commander slid to his knees beside him, a hand landing on Virgil’s leg.

Alan was packing the wound without thinking.

He couldn’t afford to think.

“Oooh, he got himself shot.” Timothy took a step forward, but John rounded on him, placing himself bodily between the gunman and his prone brothers.

“John!” His Dad’s voice was worried.

Alan’s fingers were covered in blood.

“What do you want of us?” John’s voice was ever so cold and threatening.

“Allie...”

“I told you to stop talking, Virgil.” The spot of blood on Virgil’s lips chilled Alan to the bone.

More material was torn, this time from his father’s shirt. Wrap, secure, add pressure.

Virgil cried out.

Alan blinked rapidly.

“What do I want? I want you to make a choice.” A snort and that fisted hand waved in Virgil’s direction. “And this just makes it easier.”

-o-o-o-


	6. Chapter 6

He dropped his cane.

Virgil was a sensitive baby. Fragile to the smallest sound, constantly needing reassurance and easily disturbed. He was a lot of work.

Jeff had to admit that he wasn’t around as much as he probably should have been in those early years. A good part of the time, he was not even on the planet, so he didn’t see much of his second eldest as a baby.

But what he did see, he fell in love with.

A mop of dark hair like his mother’s, and a grip on his finger that was surprisingly strong. Eyes that would stare up at him with such trust and vulnerability, as if Jeff was the centre of his world.

He knew how to holler and had a great pair of lungs on him. He set his whole family running when he wanted something.

And Scott was besotted.

Barely out of babyhood himself, his eldest boy would totter around the house following his mother and baby brother. He’d curl up beside them while his mother was feeding the little one. He would stand next to the cot and entertain little Virgil with his fingers through the railings.

As Virgil grew out of babyhood and found his feet, the two brothers swapped positions. It became Virgil who followed Scott and like setting the pattern, it had been like that ever since.

It had been a long time since Jeff had held his baby son in his arms, but now suddenly, bleeding and gasping for breath, those brown eyes were looking up at him with that same vulnerability they had when he was small.

With that same trust.

And love.

“Dad...” Breathless.

“I told you not to talk, Virgil.” Alan was like one possessed. His hands moved over his brother, calmly and efficiently wrapping and securing Virgil’s injury. Jeff was instructed firmly to hold this, hold that, and finally, to hold his second eldest son in his arms. “Keep his upper body elevated and watch his breathing.”

Virgil gurgled against his shoulder.

Blood was everywhere.

Scott grabbed Alan. A quick, wordless examination of his arm and the eldest was wrapping it with another makeshift bandage.

Alan winced, his other hand still holding Virgil.

It was like the rest of the world had frozen, waiting for them to complete their tasks.

On the other side of the room, Gordon was like a bruised storm cloud, his eyes death as they flickered between Timothy, Virgil and Alan. Every muscle wound up ready to spring.

Jeff found himself faced yet again with those missing eight years and what had happened to his son during that time.

A weak cough against his shoulder.

Jeff brushed his fingers across his son’s cheek.

Timothy smiled mirthlessly, peering around John who had placed himself between Virgil and the gunman. Jeff’s heart screamed to protect his children, but he had his arms full of one son and...

His cane was on the floor.

Scott rose smoothly to his feet, the expression on his face arctic. He turned to face Timothy, stepping up beside his red-haired brother, blocking Jeff’s view and no doubt Timothy’s view of Virgil.

His eldest son’s shoulders were taut springs.

Gordon took a step closer until Timothy was almost surrounded by Tracys.

The man snickered. “Don’t bother threatening me. You can’t do anything.” He held up the detonator. “I’ve rigged the building.”

“You’ve rigged the building? How?” Scott’s words were sharp.

“Work it out for yourself. You think I’m going to monologue you a solution to your predicament? Not quite in line with my goals, sorry.” A breath. “Now, you, commander, go back to your little corner and stand over there, or I’ll put another hole in a brother.” He waved the gun in Virgil’s direction. “Or I could just finish off the one I’ve already started.”

Scott held up his hands, fury in every line and took a step back.

He didn’t quite move to the indicated corner, but Timothy appeared satisfied.

“Now, you, swimming ninja, go stand over there.” The detonator was waved to the opposite side of the room from Scott.

Gordon glanced at the commander and Scott nodded once.

His furious brother stalked to the indicated corner, the bruise on his cheek adding to the darkness in his eyes.

“Now, I was going to break you up into two groups, but, eh, three will do.” The gun never left its aim at John’s midriff. “So, tell me, Voice from the Sky, who lives and who dies?”

Jeff could see the tension in his middle son’s shoulders as he a spat one word. “Explain.”

“I thought you were a genius? Not living up to your advertising. It’s simple.” The gun was waved at his brothers. “Which brother should die? The oldest one, your boss and commander? Or the Olympic medalist?” Timothy paused a moment. “No, I should balance the equation a bit better. You!” He shoved his fist in Alan’s direction. “Get over there with the swimmer.”

No. He wanted to say it, but he knew he couldn’t.

Alan had no such qualms. “I can’t leave Virgil. I have to keep pressure-“

“Your old man can do that. Get over there now, or I blow this building into the afterlife.”

“Alan.” Scott’s voice was soft, but it caught those young eyes and the command was sent.

Alan turned to his father, blue eyes in pain. “Dad, you need to put pressure here.” He lifted off his hands and guided Jeff’s into place. He found himself wrapped around Virgil as if he was holding his insides in.

Which technically, he was.

Virgil let out a muffled cry against his shoulder as his hands took to the place of Alan’s. “Allie...”

“It will be okay, Virgil. Don’t worry.” Those blue eyes caught Jeff’s again as Alan stood up and stepped over to Gordon’s side.

Blood dripped on the floor in a trail behind him.

“Now, that’s better. Voice from the Sky, these are your choices.” The man was conducting it all like he was a game show host.

Jeff would have been quite happy to strangle the man.

“Which family members should die? Your eldest brother, inspirational leader, the one you follow. Or the Olympic medallist and the youngest one. Or dear old dad and the injured one? What’s your choice, Johnny?” The bastard studied his red-haired son’s face intently. “What is the process? Who do you save, John?”

“What if I don’t choose?” Ice, ice cold.

“Then we all die as I blast this building to the ground.”

-o-o-o-


	7. Chapter 7

Alan’s arm hurt like hell.

But he wasn’t paying it any attention.

At some point Gordon had edged just a little closer, just enough to brush up against his hand. It was a simple reassurance and Alan could appreciate it.

But Alan’s attention was caught between Virgil and John.

Dad was holding his stricken brother like a child.

Alan could hear each struggling breath from here. There was too much blood on the carpet.

Far too much.

He itched to help Virgil. To save him.

But he couldn’t.

Time was slipping through the blood drying on his fingers.

It made him want to scream.

He couldn’t even do that.

So, he turned his attention to John.

His space brother stood ramrod straight in the middle of the room attempting to blast their assailant with his eyes.

John had always been the quiet one, the odd one out of their five. Sure, Virgil had his own brand of quiet, but John’s was as solitary as the stars he chased.

Alan had always admired him. Despite being different from the rest of the family, John never apologised for it. Alan suspected that somewhere in their eleven year age gap, something had happened to his star brother that had wrought the steel under that facade. Perhaps forced him to accept himself the way he was and leverage the advantages.

In any case, John was John and Alan loved him for it.

The fact they were both technically geniuses didn’t hurt either. They shared smarts at least. But while John sought energy from solitude, Alan was much more energised by people. He could operate alone, but he preferred to be with others.

And he loved being with John.

Okay, it was hero worship. Just a little. He had to admit it. After all, John lived where Alan wanted to explore. John knew so much and they could speak space for hours.

And had many times when Alan was little, laid out on the grass in their backyard, staring up at a clear night.

John may have preferred to be alone, but he always had time for Alan. Now, as an adult, Alan could appreciate that gift his brother had given him so many times, so much more.

“John.” Scott was vibrating in his corner, eyes darting between Virgil and John even more than Alan’s. “I think-“

“Nobody cares what you think, Commander. You’re not in charge here.”

“Timothy, or whatever the hell your name is, this has gone far enough.”

The gunman arched an eyebrow at Alan’s father. “So, you think you’re in charge, too. Honestly, do you idiots even realise the power your brother has?” His eyes latched onto Alan’s father. “How you’ve gifted him the ability to play god? Neither of you are in charge. So, shut up or I’ll shoot the both of you.”

“But that would ruin your test, wouldn’t it?” John’s voice was ice calm and just as cold.

Timothy turned back to Alan’s space brother. “Maybe you are as smart as they say you are, Voiceman.” A glare. “Now choose.”

John’s eyes flicked around the room, catching each of his brother’s and his father’s.

A groan from Virgil. “No…” And the engineer was attempting to sit up.

“Virgil, stay still!” The words fell sharply from Alan’s lips and were backed up by the rest of his family as their father tried to hold him back.

“Oh, for the love of-! Don’t any of you know how to shut up?!” Timothy took several steps closer to Alan’s fallen brother. The gun pointed directly at Virgil. Painfilled eyes stared up at the man. Timothy’s finger twitched. Alan opened his mouth to scream.

On the far side of the room, John’s tablet, put aside while his suit was being fitted, let off a chime. “John, are you dressed yet? Can I see?”

Eos.

Alan’s heart lurched as John didn’t hesitate. “Eos! You are the Dawn!” His space brother knocked the gun aside and the whole room jumped as it went off, digging a hole in the floor beside Virgil’s foot.

The tablet pinged acknowledgement.

Timothy whipped around and grabbed John. John was taller, but Timothy obviously had strength and training and before Gordon or Scott could take more than one step forward, John’s arm was wrenched behind his back, bending him awkwardly, and the gun shoved at his throat.

“What did you do?!”

A brief flicker of pain passed over John’s face before that familiar calm settled again. “What I always do – what has to be done.” He groaned as Timothy yanked harder on his arm and with one shot, narrowly missing Gordon, destroyed John’s tablet with a bullet.

“John…” Virgil’s voice was whisper quiet and ending in another groan.

“Virgil!” His father admonished the prone engineer, but Virgil was inconsolable, struggling against his hold.

Timothy ignored them, jamming the gun so deep into John’s throat, the astronaut choked. “Choose, you asshole! Who lives and who dies, or this building comes down on all of us now!”

-o-o-o-

“Eos! You are the Dawn!”

The words hit her hard.

Emergency level threat.

John and/or his family members were in danger and in need of her assistance.

Her response was immediate.

She flooded the building’s digital infrastructure with herself, clawing through the optical cables seeking as much information as she could gather.

John’s tablet gave her a little, but its signal died almost immediately. Its camera was useless, but its microphone gave her just enough to hear her father’s voice before it cut out.

Her father was in pain.

A tendril shot out across the other side of the world and alerted Kayo.

The security officer swore, dropping her suspect as Eos pulled a sitrep from the scene.

Communications within the suit shop had been manually severed and cloaked. Her assessment earlier had been passive. Now active and aware of the issue she was able to dig beneath the benign code to find programs running that were absolutely not.

Why had John forbidden her from prying?

An alert was sent to Lady Penelope’s residence. A full status feed churning through the connection.

Eos’ electric fingers sliced through alien code and disrupted it, triggering an alert to IR security.

Kayo was already alerting Gerald, chief officer on site. IR security moved.

Except for one.

Eos’ eyes were everywhere. Lightning fast she pinpointed each member of the team as each responded to Gerald’s update and command to report.

The man outside the door. The man trusted to stand guard on the Tracys. His vitals reported elevated heartrate and he was refusing to acknowledge commands.

Thunderbird S was nearing a redline as the craft tore across the Atlantic.

FAB1 was airborne, Parker swearing colourfully.

And still the security officer did not respond.

She infiltrated his comms, pulling recordings. She pulled video from cameras. Faster than any human, she pulled his history, his recent activity, his recent movements.

She watched him meet with one of the tailors’ assistants two weeks earlier. There was no recording of conversation, but there was a data trail.

She tore through the assistant’s personal computing devices.

The protection written into his files was professional and a challenge. He wasn’t any kind of assistant at all.

While simultaneously gathering information from the disabled security system, updating Kayo and Penelope, and burrowing through electrical infrastructure desperate to find a connection of any kind with John or any of his brothers, she identified Timothy Wilson, ex-marine, millionaire as the ‘tailors’ assistant’ who had spoken to Anthony Simes of IR security two weeks earlier and passed on a computer program and what was likely a plan that resulted in the blackout of communications she was currently battling.

The camera in the foyer focussed sharply on the man whose heart was now redlining almost as much as Thunderbird S’ engines.

Spread across so many systems, multitasking with the sole aim to locate and secure her father, she stared down at this man who had obviously betrayed him.

Kayo was yelling at her as she crossed the coastline of England.

But Eos was the Dawn.

-o-o-o-


	8. Chapter 8

Virgil had spent most of the last few months worrying about his father.

Jeff understood why, but that didn’t make it any easier.

His son hovered and badgered and nagged and generally drove him insane with check-ups and monitoring.

Gordon once mentioned in passing that Scott had become obsessed during the last six months in the hunt for their father. A couple of questions later and Jeff ended up with a pretty clear picture of how his two eldest had managed the situation.

Or not.

Apparently, Scott had been driven.

And Virgil had followed his eldest brother around like a shadow. Making apologies to offended parties, cleaning up messes, arbitrating arguments between family members, and generally being the fix-it man in Scott’s tyrannical wake.

It came as no surprise. Jeff had seen that pattern before.

Because Lucy did the same for him oh so many years ago.

Looking at Scott was often like looking in a time affected mirror.

Looking at Virgil had always brought up so many memories.

That certainly hadn’t changed.

So, it was almost logical that when Virgil no longer had to worry so much about his big brother, his attentions switched to the health of his newly rescued father.

And it was done for the same two reasons.

Love.

And fear.

He’d seen both of those emotions in his son’s eyes aboard the Zero XL. And he had been seeing them in those brown depths ever since.

Jeff hated it.

Hated the fact Virgil had to worry about him. Hated that he was weaker than he wanted to be. Hated those eight years that slapped him in the face every day.

He wanted nothing more than to be strong for his family.

But it was them being strong for him.

Jeff bit his lip and clung to his injured son.

But Virgil refused to sit still.

Considering he was injured, he still managed to strain against Jeff’s grip. “Dad…” His voice was barely a whisper and gurgled enough to terrify his father. A thin stream of blood ran from the corner of his son’s mouth as he tried to speak. “John…!” He gasped, terror in his eyes, and his body spasmed as his cough reflex was triggered.

Jeff’s hands slipped from their hold on Virgil’s injury, his fingers slick with blood. “Virgil!”

An asshole was holding a gun to John’s head, Alan was bleeding, and both of his military sons were silently screaming death at the man who was the cause of it all, but Jeff had his hands full of a desperate Virgil, bleeding, possibly to death if he wouldn’t keep still!

“J…J…John…itss…” Virgil groaned and curled in on himself…which only exacerbated the wound on his back further.

Jeff grabbed at his son. “Virgil, keep still!”

Timothy said something and Scott snarled.

Virgil gasped in a breath. “John…det…nator…”

Jeff froze.

And so did Timothy.

The room fell quiet except for Virgil’s laboured breathing. Brown eyes wandered as if looking for his brother, eyelids dipping. “John…”

And suddenly the gun was pointing at Virgil again. “Shut him up!”

“John…!” Virgil cried out.

“Shut up!”

The gun aimed and Virgil must have seen it, because he stopped struggling and wilted as he stared up at Timothy.

John gasped as the gunman wrenched his shoulder again.

“If he says another word, he dies.” Timothy was addressing Jeff while the gun was aimed directly at the son in his arms. The same gun that had already shot a bullet through two of his boys and hadn’t even waivered from its trajectory.

Jeff let his head drop a little as if in surrender, but more truthfully in preparation to move the both of them…fast.

Because his boys hadn’t really changed that much in the last eight years and he knew Virgil well enough to know what was coming next.

Fear-filled eyes stared up at that barrel.

Jeff clutched him tighter.

Virgil drew in a breath.

“Iss fake.”

Timothy’s finger twitched on the trigger, but suddenly the gun wasn’t there anymore.

John had thrown himself backwards, pushing all his weight onto the man holding him. The gun went off, but missed Virgil, the bullet embedding itself in the ceiling.

And Jeff’s sons moved.

John yelled as he twisted in the man’s grip, the astronaut’s foot stomping down hard enough for a loud crack to echo through the room. Timothy fell and John jumped on top of him.

Scott dove and landed on the arm holding the gun. Another nasty crunch and the weapon dropped.

Timothy swore.

Scott kicked it away.

But John was free and his fist drew back, hitting the man’s face hard enough to break bone.

He pulled back and hit him again.

And again.

The man grew limp and John continued to hit him.

“John!” Jeff yelled his name, but it was Scott and Gordon who finally dragged their space brother off the unconscious man.

John was panting, shaking, and his breath hitched as his eyes caught Jeff’s. A blink and they shifted to Virgil.

The engineer sighed. “Thank you…” The son in Jeff’s arms suddenly became heavier, his body falling limp.

“Virgil?”

His eyes were closed, his breathing little more than a rasp.

“Virgil!” And Alan was there, his hands once again moving expertly, checking vitals.

Gordon secured Timothy. The room burst into noise and movement. The remaining tailors’ assistants and William himself, beelined for the exits, throwing the doors wide as they fled.

Scott appeared beside Alan again as Gordon ran for security. More shirts were torn and bundled up. Pressure was applied to halt the bleeding.

There was no response from Virgil.

Only his struggle for breath.

And as John crawled over, that stopped, too.

-o-o-o-


	9. Chapter 9

Eos let off a burst of frustration and blew out three LEDs on Thunderbird Five.

John would not be happy.

John could be as unhappy with her as he liked just so long as she could get in contact with her father.

There were men fleeing the rooms her father was hidden in, but none of them were a Tracy.

And she still had no contact.

Whoever had put the interference in place around the suit shop, knew what they were doing. She had disabled the cloak that hid the presence of the interference, but there was no remaining avenue to travel to any of the communication devices in those rooms.

She could ping off the IR tech, her father and his brother’s comms and vitals monitors, but none of the brothers were wearing them!

It was so frustrating. She would speak with Brains. She flung off several routines and threw a tiny part of herself into processing a new design for comms and vitals that stayed with the human body and didn’t get discarded at whim!

Frustration slipped into anger and fear joined the party.

Kayo offered random platitudes, but Eos wasn’t human. She wanted her father and only his presence could assuage her anxiety.

At least Kayo was on approach to the building.

“Eos!”

John’s voice shut down all her processes, her entire being redeploying immediately to focus on his signal. “John?” It came from his comms. A flick of digital switches and she had visual.

Thunderbird Five groaned with Eos’ relief, its digital superstructure flexing under AI emotions it was never designed to support.

“We need medical assistance. Virgil has a gunshot wound to the chest and is in difficulty.” Audio picked up the Commander’s voice in the background yelling Virgil’s name.

“Help is on the way.” Medical services were indeed outside the building. She pinged Penelope with that information.

The woman started running as she spoke into her comms.

“John, are you well?” Her voice sounded small despite amplification.

“I’m okay, Eos.”

Something in his voice revealed his lie, but Eos was unable to narrow down the frequency. “John?”

“I’m gathering up comms. The family will be back online shortly.”

“Thank you, John.”

A pause.

Another yell from Scott.

“Get those medical personnel in here. Chest decompression, blood replacement, cardiac stimulation and life support.”

“Yes, John.”

“Thank you, Eos.”

“You’re welcome.”

-o-o-o-

They lay Virgil down, flat on his back. Alan’s fingers were on his brother’s pulse when it faded.

“Cardiac arrest.” He set his shoulders to apply chest compressions. Pushing Virgil’s bloody shirt aside, Alan stretched his fingers to locate the optimum position. His palms made skin contact and Alan leaned forward only to cry out when his arm reminded him loudly that he was injured too.

“Breathe for him.” Scott nudged him aside, sleeves rolled up over arms almost twice the size of Alan’s. “I’ve got this.”

And then it was simple mechanics. He tipped Virgil’s head back and, in rhythm, breathed for his brother.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Alan knew exactly what he was doing and the fear was screaming at him. But Alan was a professional, this body was a rescuee who needed saving.

Numbers flew.

His father was on his knees beside them, but there was no time to acknowledge anyone.

Virgil, c’mon.

Scott hissed between his teeth. “Virgil, don’t do this.”

His big brother’s hands pressed down hard, beating a heart that was likely strained and confined by pneumothorax. They needed equipment and they needed it now.

“Where the hell are those paramedics?!” Scott’s voice was hoarse.

Kayo appeared at some point, Gordon by her side.

Alan, lightheaded by breath his brother was barely accepting, didn’t respond to either of them.

Virgil, please!

And suddenly he was being shoved aside. A bag replaced him; its hiss regular and cold. New hands and new voices surrounded Virgil. Scott was yelling.

Alan registered the tube they stuck in Virgil’s side and Scott’s cry as they finally got a heartbeat.

Actions and words began to blur as Alan’s own thudding heart took over his hearing.

Then Virgil was moving, propelled up and away by a hover stretcher. Scott ran with it.

Alan remained sitting on the floor.

Blood all over his hands, his heart beating fast and hard enough to drown out almost everything.

“Alan?”

He blinked. His father’s grey eyes caught him from where the older man was still sprawled on the carpet.

Drying blood stained the grey of his suit all down his front.

His hands were darkening red.

Alan hitched in a breath and it almost strangled him. His adrenalin began to wane and with it a tsunami of emotion swelled and threatened.

He held it back.

And still his heart beat so fast.

So fast.

“Alan?”

Get up. He was an emergency responder. This was still an emergency. He was still in the danger zone.

Stumbling, he pushed himself to his feet.

It was a mistake.

The world dissolved into sparkles and dark spots.

He clutched a hand to his head. His heart just wouldn’t stop.

“Alan!”

Daddy?

Someone else called out his name. Gordon? John?

Scuffle. Running feet.

Someone swore.

The sparkles gathered into darkness and whisked him away.

-o-o-o-

Jeff was ever so proud of his sons. Ever so proud.

Scott and Alan worked in concert like a well-oiled machine, keeping Virgil alive.

Alive.

Please god.

His own hands itched to assist, but Scott’s eyes were fire and Alan’s determination a physical thing.

He could only watch two of his sons fight for the life of their brother.

Virgil was almost grey under the splattering of red, the silk of his deep green shirt only working to emphasize that colouring.

John appeared from the change rooms; shirts clutched in his hands. No doubt the comms they had all been missing. Eos was likely unhappy if he could predict the AI’s response to the situation.

John’s grim expression would seem to agree.

“Where the hell are those paramedics?” Scott’s expression was strain and pain. His shoulders and arms pressing down on Virgil’s chest in a horrible way.

Jeff ticked off forced heart beats in his head.

Gordon and Kayo ran into the room. Kayo immediately grabbed Timothy, securing his restraints with some of her own.

Her eyes flicked in the direction of Virgil, fear in their depths.

Finally, paramedics rushed in behind Gordon, the aquanaut stepping out of their way.

Alan was nudged aside as Scott gave a sharp status report between compressions.

A needle and tubing appeared and expert hands released the pressure in Virgil’s lung cavity.

There was silence as Scott ceased compressions, his fingers reaching for Virgil’s carotid.

A frozen moment.

Another.

“We have a pulse!”

The bag remained on Virgil’s face.

“We move him now.” Scott’s voice was sharp and despite the paramedics having their own chain of command, there was no denying the Commander of International Rescue.

Virgil was manhandled onto a stretcher and whisked away. Scott glanced at Jeff once, his son’s worry so desperate. A blink and he was following the hovergurney.

Another blink and his two eldest sons were gone.

The sudden silence in the room threatened to strangle. He had to get up. He had to follow his son.

Alan sat across from him, a frown on his face. So pale.

“Alan?”

Those blue eyes blinked and stared. Jeff’s heart lurched.

He reached for his cane.

So pale.

“Alan?”

Gordon and John looked over, frowning in unison.

Stubborn determination flickered in Alan’s eyes and he pushed himself to his feet.

All the blood drained from his face.

“Alan!”

Gordon and John were moving, but Jeff was closer and he threw himself at his youngest just as Alan crumpled.

Jeff barely caught him. The eighteen-year-old wasn’t a big man, but Jeff came in at an odd angle and his own strength was compromised. The former astronaut went down with his son, Alan’s weight as limp in his arms as Virgil’s had been minutes before.

The gasp that passed Jeff’s lips was more a sob.

“Alan? Son?”

John’s voice was sharp. “Eos, get those paramedics back in here! Alan’s collapsed.”

“Yes, father.”

Jeff lowered his youngest to the carpet and ran vitals.

Breathing laboured.

Heart rate fast.

Likely blood loss.

Shock.

“Dad. He is going to be okay.” John’s voice was ever calm.

Gordon was applying pressure to Alan’s arm.

More paramedics barrelled into the room.

Quick fingers. John’s curt report.

And another son was whisked away.

Jeff found himself half sprawled on the carpet of a suit shop surrounded by blood stains.

“Dad?”

He looked up to find John kneeling in front of him. He belatedly realised John’s hands were on his arms.

“Dad? Are you okay?”

“I have to go with Allie.”

“Gordon has gone with him. He is going to be okay.” Turquoise pierced his heart.

“Virgil…” But the sentence wouldn’t finish.

John visibly swallowed. “Is in good hands.”

He needed his cane.

He needed his sons.

Lucy screamed at him in the back of his mind.

He had to look after his children.

Blood on the carpet.

He grabbed for his strength, found it failing, but he swore at it and reached for his cane anyway.

His fingers wrapped around the smooth wood, their tips brushing across the simple carving his second eldest had etched into the surface. A stylised Thunderbird, wings spread in defiance.

Virgil smiled at him in his mind’s eye.

Jeff Tracy grit his teeth, set the cane’s foot into the damaged carpet and pushed himself to his feet.

“Dad?”

John’s voice was so gentle.

Jeff straightened his shoulders and caught his son’s eyes.

“John.” He put it all in his son’s name. He needed to be there.

The fingers on his arms tightened just a little. One hand let go as John stepped back.

There was a desperate love in those turquoise eyes…and in his quiet reply.

“FAB.”

-o-o-o-


	10. Chapter 10

_Dear Lucy._

_I don’t know where to start._

_Perhaps a thank you is in order. Thank you for turning our boy around and marching him back here. I don’t think I could handle losing any of them. Not now._

_Not ever._

_But we’ve discussed that before._

_You would have been so proud. I know I’ve mentioned how they’ve grown, but in the worst of circumstances…_

_Our littlest, honey…he is so strong. Even injured, he fought for Virgil with everything he had._

_He reminded me of you._

_But then they all do._

_Gordy continues to surprise me. I know he has experienced more than I would ever have wished on anyone, but there was a fire in our little fish today. I don’t know how to classify him anymore. He is a scientist and an athlete, but this time he was a soldier._

_I would never have suspected, Luce. He was always such a happy boy. But life, I guess._

_John. Quiet, genius John. Life has taken a toll on all our boys, but the strength I saw in Johnny...god, Luce, I wish you could see them all. I know I’m proud enough for the both of us, but it’s so unfair that we have such worthy sons and you can’t see the men they have become._

_I miss you._

_God, I miss you._

_Did you see Virgil? Did you speak to him? I like to think that for all the pain our son went through that you would have received at least a glimpse._

_He reminds me so much of you, every day. He has your kind eyes._

_But you know that._

_It bears repeating._

_It was so close and he has a long road ahead of him, but he is still with me. Thank you, love, thank you, thank you._

_I’ll listen to his nagging, I promise. He means well._

_I guess now I get to nag him in return._

_Luce._

_God._

_Our Scotty. You said it when he was born. You said he was going to change the world._

_He has._

_He does._

_Love, I couldn’t ask for more._

Jeff paused, the stylus hovering above his tablet. Scott was sleeping in the chair between the two beds despite the regular beeping from the monitors.

Or perhaps because of that regular beat.

The tablet was having trouble with Jeff’s scrawly handwriting. Usually he dictated these letters in the privacy of his own rooms, but that wasn’t happening today.

And he had so much to tell Lucy.

Virgil was pale and breathing quietly on the bed beside him. Various monitors and IVs were strapped to him, but after some serious surgery, he was breathing on his own and, bar complications, on the mend.

Jeff sighed and shifted in his seat.

He glanced at his medic son almost expecting him to wake up and ask after his father’s health.

He would welcome it.

Virgil’s eyes stayed closed.

Jeff let his shoulders drop.

_Luce, I am so proud of them, my heart is fit to burst out of my chest._

On the far side of Scott, Alan also lay sleeping, his arm wrapped in bandages and his own set of IVs replenishing his system.

Not for the first time in his years of parenthood, he wanted to be in more than one place at a time. But as always, he was outnumbered by his sons.

Scott had managed to solve a good chunk of the problem by paying the hospital so they could have both Virgil and Alan in the same room. If there was one advantage to having money, it was that.

Virgil still needed intensive care. Consequently, there was a nurse in the room at all times. She sat now in the half twilight reading notes in the corner.

Kayo had gone feral with security. She was horrified by Eos’ report on Anthony Simes. Apparently, the man had been found unconscious outside the main doors.

Why he was unconscious was yet to be explained. Kayo had appropriated the video recordings from the foyer. They simply showed him collapsing where he stood.

John had frowned when Kayo mentioned it and Jeff hadn’t seen him since. Scott said something about his brother connecting with Thunderbird Five.

Jeff just hoped his mother was making sure he was getting some sleep at the hotel. Mom had discovered ways to get his boys to behave that were still a mystery to him.

Alan muttered something in his sleep.

Putting aside his tablet, Jeff grabbed his cane and pushed himself to his feet. Everything ached. Neither his bones or his muscles had appreciated all the crawling around on the floor. Scott had been concerned enough to order in another bed in the hospital room.

Jeff hadn’t used it.

As for Scott, his son hadn’t left the hospital since they arrived here. Scott was exhausted. Between the kick to his abdomen and the strain of all those chest compressions, his eldest son’s body had declared enough was enough and shut him down not long after he finally sat in that chair.

Jeff had no wish to disturb him.

Shuffling across the room, he made his way around Alan’s bed to the other side where another couple of chairs sat waiting for him. Jeff held in the groan as he folded himself with a creak.

His body was frustration itself.

Alan muttered something unintelligible and tossed his head on the pillow.

He was dreaming.

Without hesitation, Jeff leant over and touched his fingers to his son’s pale cheek.

Alan stilled immediately, his frown relaxing. His lips formed mumbled words as he leant into Jeff’s touch.

Ever so quiet, soft and...trusting. “Scott.”

Jeff’s eyes darted to his eldest, still sleeping between the beds.

How many times had Scott sat watch over his brothers like this?

Jeff’s heart clenched as his eyes traced the grey hairs on his son’s temples.

Alan rolled over towards Jeff, dragging his bandaged arm and tangling his IV. He didn’t wake, but appeared to be seeking comfort, his cheek cupping into Jeff’s palm.

Alan’s hand caught at his forearm attempting to pull him closer.

Jeff had the urge to lift him up and curl around him. But Alan was eighteen. No longer the eleven-year-old he so often pictured when he thought of his youngest.

Instead, he stood up and, leaning against the bed, reached over to untangle the tubing.

It was awkward with one hand.

“Let me get that.” A soft voice and a pair of tanned arms reached in and unsnagged the IV.

Jeff turned to find Gordon beside him. The aquanaut half smiled, dark eyes twinkling in the poor light despite the bruising on his face.

“Sit down, Dad.”

A blink and Jeff did as he was told, his eyes caught between his youngest and the apparition of his older brother. “What are you doing here?”

“Couldn’t sleep. Snuck out. Figured you would still be here.”

The nurse at her station glanced up at them and Jeff felt suitably admonished. He pulled Gordon into one of the empty chairs beside him. “You need rest.”

“Yeah, well, rest is optional apparently.” A glance in Scott’s direction. “He looks down for the count.”

“He’s exhausted.”

“The fact we’re talking and he is still asleep is proof of that. Virgil would be dragging him to bed.”

There was no question of that. A glance over at his second injured son.

Still still.

Still quiet.

Virgil, please wake up.

“Any sign?” Gordon’s voice was tentative.

“No.”

“Doctors have anything to say?”

“He will wake in his own time. It’s early yet.”

Neither of them wanted to acknowledge the possibility of brain damage.

That way lay terror.

“Virg is always a snooze hound.”

They fell quiet for a moment. Jeff’s hand was still wrapped up in his youngest’s fingers and he had no issue about leaving it there. It brought up memories of the toddler who clung to him all those years ago.

He’d lost his mother before he even knew her.

Luce, you would be so, so proud.

He was thinking that a lot lately.

“How are you feeling, Dad?”

The question was inevitable, even if Virgil wasn’t awake. “I’m getting there. How about you?” It was dim lighting, but not enough to hide the doozy of a shiner his son was sporting.

Gordon snorted. “Same.”

“Dreams?” It was one word with so much terror behind it and they both knew it.

Gordon sighed. “Yeah, but I’ll get over it.”

The fact his son said that with so much experience, just hurt.

“You?”

Jeff arched an eyebrow. “Filling in for Virgil?”

“You asked me first.”

“My prerogative as a parent.”

“My prerogative as your son.”

“You have been taking notes off Virgil.”

“Who do you think corrals Scott when Virgil is down for the count? I’m back-up and you’re avoiding the question.”

His sons were definitely a team effort. “Dreams, yes, but they are nothing to worry about.” Dreams had kept him company for many years.

“They are going to be okay.”

“I know that Gordon. And so do you.”

Another sigh. “Yes, Dad.”

Alan muttered against his palm. “I’m sleeping here. Go get a room.”

“Allie?”

The fingers wrapped around his tightened momentarily before a pair of blue eyes peeked out from behind heavy eyelids. “What?”

“You okay?”

They closed again and Alan’s brow crinkled into a frown. “I’m fine, Scott. Lemme sleep.”

Alan was still clinging to his father’s arm.

Jeff blinked a moment. Ever so quiet. “Sleep, Allie.”

He paid no attention to the hand that landed on his shoulder and squeezed just a little.

-o-o-o-


	11. Chapter 11

Alan was in pain.

It wasn’t a huge amount of pain and, thanks to the drugs, his brain was appropriately foggy. He really couldn’t complain. He was getting the best care. His family was here, coming and going, sitting beside his bed, beside Virgil’s bed, keeping them company. And, to be honest, he hadn’t really been here very long relatively speaking.

But his arm hurt and Virgil still hadn’t woken up and there were worried words bouncing around the room when the doctors visited and really Alan was starting to get scared.

Virgil was his big brother and he loved him dearly.

Alan had a brother for everything and Virgil was his goto for reassurance and comfort. Virgil was gentle and kind and caring and damnit, it wasn’t fair.

The room blurred a moment and Alan swallowed.

“Alan? Are you okay?” A fuzzy red-haired figure rose from the other side of Virgil’s bed.

Oh.

John.

Alan blinked rapidly, suddenly embarrassed at what his brother might think.

“Um.” The syllable was distinctly wet. He cleared his throat. “Where’s Scott and Dad?”

John slid between the two beds and sat in the seat that Scott had been occupying so much since they arrived here. He turned it to face Alan. “Grandma dragged both of them out. They were here all night. She’s not happy.”

“Oh.” His voice was small and somewhat fragile.

C’mon, he was eighteen. Why did he feel like crying?

“They’ve got you on some decent painkillers, Allie. I wouldn’t be surprised if they are messing with your head at least a little.” A hand landed on his uninjured arm. “How are you feeling?”

Alan swallowed but didn’t answer. Instead he asked a question. “How’s Virgil?”

“He’s resting quietly.”

“He hasn’t woken up, has he?”

“He just needs a little more time to heal.”

“You don’t need to protect me, John. I’m not a little kid anymore.”

His brother paused, staring at him calmly. “That’s where you are wrong, Alan. I will always protect you. You’re my brother.”

Alan bit back a snarky response to that statement and found himself tearing up again.

Damnit, John was supposed to be the stoic one.

The hand on his arm squeezed gently.

Which made the tears worse.

Damnit.

“It’s the medication, Alan. Don’t fight it.”

“I want him to get better.” It came out as a sobbing wail. Oh god, he was losing it.

A tiny part of him expected John to bolt. John didn’t do distressed and crying brothers. That was Virgil.

Of course, the thought of his hugging bear of a brother only made it worse and to his utter embarrassment, he found himself crying.

John was rubbing his arm.

“John, why isn’t he getting better?”

“He is.”

“Then why hasn’t he woken up?”

“He just needs a little more time.”

“I want him to wake up.”

“We all do, Alan.”

“I just...” His heart tightened in his chest. “I’m scared.”

Something vulnerable flickered across John’s face and he opened his mouth but a different voice spoke in a scratchy, worried tone.

“Alan, what’s wrong?!”

Both Alan and John startled, the latter spinning around to reveal a pair of worried brown eyes latched onto Alan. Virgil shifted where he lay, an errant hand pushing the oxygen mask off his face. His arms flailed a little, his intention obvious to sit up and most likely attempt to climb out of bed. His expression crumpled into one of pain and he groaned.

In the corner of the room, the nurse shot to her feet and hurried over as John took a step towards his brother, hands out to hold him down. “Virgil!”

Those brown eyes darted fearfully between his brothers. “What’s wrong with Alan? Why’s he crying?” He tried to push himself up, but again grimaced in pain.

“Virgil! He’s okay. Stay still.”

“Scott? Need Scott...Allie...” His eyelids dipped and Virgil wilted under John’s hands.

“Allie’s okay. Scott will be here shortly.” John thumbed his comms and said a few pertinent words.

The FAB at the other end was sharp and in motion.

Virgil turned his head on the pillow and stared directly at Alan. “Allie?” His brother’s voice was dry and cracked on the second syllable, those kind eyes so worried.

Alan clung to them with his own and struggled to control himself for his brother’s sake, but apparently he had no control. Fresh tears welled and wet his pillow, but at least their cause was for an entirely different reason. “Virg.”

His brother was awake. A smile threatened and he found it spreading onto his face despite the tears.

Virgil’s frown became puzzled, but his eyelids dropped again.

“Sleep, Virgil.” John’s voice was so soft and gentle. John had a voice just like his musical brother. He didn’t sing, but there was something ever so calming about it. Alan’s heartbeat began to slow and his breathing with it. The throb in his arm was overwhelmed by the relief in his heart.

John continued to speak, their older brother querying worriedly several times. Alan wanted to climb out of bed and hug Virgil, eighteen years old or not.

He was awake. He was going to be okay.

John’s voice was hypnotic and Alan’s eyelids drooped with exhaustion.

“He’s okay, Virgil. Go back to sleep.”

As his big brother’s eyes dipped closed and he drifted off, Alan went with him.

-o-o-o-

Jeff sculled his coffee and his mother glared at him.

“I gotta go, Mom.”

“You haven’t slept.”

“I’ll sleep later.” He dumped the mug on the counter and, hobbling over with his cane, grabbed his jacket. The hotel was just across the road from the hospital and Scott had already left, dropping everything the moment John called him.

His mother had grabbed Jeff by the scruff of his neck and forced him to eat the last two bites of his sandwich. Jeff topped it off with coffee just for rebellion’s sake.

“Well, I’m coming with you. At least that way, when you fall on your face, there will be someone there to catch you.”

“I’m okay, Mom.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.” She picked up her own jacket and held the door for him. “You see the boys and then it is back here for some decent sleep or I’ll back up Scott with that hospital bed.”

He frowned at his mother. Forty-odd years of adulthood behind him, military service, landing on Mars, parenthood five times over of his own, International Rescue, eight years alone, surviving on almost nothing, and his mother still had the power to make him do exactly what she wanted.

Damnit.

“Fine.”

Virgil certainly came by his nagging honestly.

The thought of his injured son had him hobbling out the door without further complaint.

By the time they made it down to the ground floor, across the street and through the maze of a hospital, Jeff was beginning to feel more like his mother knew what she was talking about. The coffee and food gave him energy, but his body was still exhausted, stiff and sore. He found himself leaning on his cane more and more.

His mom stopped him just outside their sons’ room. Jeremy was on security duty. Gerald was being interrogated by Kayo. Their security chief was understandably not happy and while Gerald didn’t appear to be at fault and was mortified to the point of attempting to resign, Kayo was being thorough in her investigation.

Jeff idly wondered if his mother was going to hunt her down and force her to sleep too.

He wasn’t a petulant child in the slightest.

“Jefferson, I need your word that you will back me up when I ask Scott to return to the hotel. Sleeping in that chair is not doing him any good. He needs a decent sleep in a proper bed just as much as you do.” She sighed. “He’s almost a clone of you, that boy. Just as stubborn, just as determined. Promise me you’ll back me up.”

The child deep inside of him pouted and glared. Scott may share many of his traits, but that only helped Jeff empathise with his eldest. Jeff wanted to be with his sons as much as Scott wanted to be with his brothers.

But Jeff was the parent.

“Yes, mother.”

She held his eyes a moment longer and more than ever he understood her perspective in that moment. He had five, but his mother had one, too.

And damnit, she knew exactly how to get her point across.

Narrowing his glare just a little, he held back the pout and instead put his energy into hobbling the last few steps towards his sons’ room.

-o-o-o-

The next time Alan woke, the room was full of golden family.

The sun was setting through the window, lighting up the walls in shades of gold. His brothers were lit up as they clustered around Virgil’s bed.

They didn’t notice Alan, and it gave him the opportunity to both wake up fully and observe his family undetected.

He was feeling much better. His head was a lot clearer and he was calmer.

The reason why no one noticed his wakefulness was because Virgil was already awake.

His brother was smiling and poking fun at a sunlit Gordon near the end of his bed. The aquanaut appeared to be enjoying it. When the attention drifted away from him and whether or not he was allowed to film Virgil on drugs, the expression on his fish brother’s face was one of fondness and hope. His eyes barely left the prone man.

That fact could have been annoying from a little brother’s perspective, but Alan found himself doing the same thing.

Virgil, who had literally died in his arms, was supported by his bed, sitting up at an angle and talking quite animatedly. There was a healthy flush to his cheeks that hadn’t been there before.

John was standing calmly on the other side of the bed, the setting sun catching his hair from behind as it darted through the hospital window.

John had a habit of striking such a pose. It was unclear if he did it on purpose or was completely unaware of his surroundings in those moments.

Virgil had photographed him on multiple occasions for that exact reason, much to the astronaut’s annoyance.

Grandma stood beside him; her arms wrapped around his. That was an unusual sight. But then they had almost lost a brother and the threat had been to John.

That thought led into unpleasant directions so he brought it to a halt.

He could only see Scott’s back, but his brother was gesticulating, making a point about digging up Gordon’s baby videos and broadcasting them to the world if he didn’t behave.

As if Scott would ever do something like that.

Though, come to think of it, the threat at least wasn’t a bad idea. Alan had much less a solid reputation than Scott and could probably carry the threat enough to get some good ones out of his brother.

“How did you know it was a fake detonator?” John’s voice cut across the conversation, his expression puzzled. The question came out of the blue, ever a sign that John’s mind worked on more than one track at a time.

Virgil blinked up at him. “I…I didn’t at first. It was a good replica of a T-325. But I noticed he was holding his hand strangely. The T-325 has a trigger rest here.” His brother held up a hand as if to sketch out the design in the air, only wince and withdraw the gesture.

Grandma frowned at him from the other side of the bed.

“Long story short…if you waved a T-325 around as much as he did, with that grip, chances are we would have blown up long before he had started his second rant. That one is a touchy model.” Virgil shifted awkwardly and Scott laid a hand on his arm.

“Well, I’m glad we had our expert on hand.”

Scott’s smile was reflected in Virgil’s eyes.

“Oh, ho, ho, look who’s awake!”

Trust Gordon to dob him in.

Suddenly all the eyes in the room were on Alan. His father and eldest brother spun, both faces lighting up when they realised Alan was awake.

Alan couldn’t help but grin back. “Hey.” His voice caught and he coughed.

Talk about ruining a moment. Scott was on him immediately, his dad not far behind.

“How are you feeling, Alan?”

He cleared his throat. “I’m good.” He reached out his uninjured arm and nudged his worried brother aside gently. “Virgil?”

Soft brown eyes caught his and his big brother smiled. “Hey, Allie.”

A hand landed on Alan’s leg and he looked up to find a pair of grey eyes peering down at him. Alan frowned. “Dad, you should sit down.”

“I’m fine, Allie. Are you comfortable?”

An arched eyebrow. “I’m good, honest.” And he was. There was definitely still something in his system. It was keeping him quite happy. Too much movement probably wasn’t on the cards yet, but to be honest, the sight of Virgil smiling at him generated enough endorphins to keep him going for weeks.

He turned back to Virgil and soaked it in.

The smile turned to a grin and Alan flushed in embarrassment.

But those brown eyes were reassurance itself.

“Hmm, did you two want to be alone?”

“Shut up, Gordon.” It was sharp, but no less reassuring that Virgil could spin the familiar phrase off so easily.

Alan laughed. “Good to see you, Virg.”

Again with the smile. “Likewise.” Those eyes turned inwards for a second before fixating on him. “And thank you.”

The line ‘just doing my job’ climbed onto his lips, but he vetoed it. “Always, bro.”

The room was embarrassingly silent after that and the moment broke.

“Dad, I would rather you sat down.” Virgil was definitely feeling better.

“I can look after myself, son.” It was firm and a touch threatening if Virgil chose to push the point.

But his father took a seat.

Alan shifted position and his arm twinged. He must have shown it on his face, because Scott reached out and touched his shoulder. He looked up to find worried blue eyes staring down at him.

Apparently, he needed to repeat himself. “I’m okay, Scott.”

His brother grunted before letting go, grabbing his plastic chair and dumping himself in it.

The room fell silent.

Turquoise hit him from across the room as the sun dipped behind a cloud and the room chilled.

“So, who was that guy?” Anything to get the conversation moving.

For a second, he regretted the topic as Scott’s lips thinned, but he had to know and clearing the air wouldn’t hurt, would it?

It was John who answered, though. “Timothy was a rescue we were unable to attend. Eos pulled the records and what he said was true. He lost his family. Any other day and we would have been there, but the Tsunami Disaster had all our attention.” A pause. “I am sorry.”

Scott started at that. “Hey, it was not your fault.”

A copper eyebrow arched. “Really? Do you want me to list exactly where our forces were deployed at that moment? It was Day Three. Scott was en route to Tracy Island for refuelling, Virgil, you were asleep. Gordon had dragged you to the bunk on Two. He had threatened to tie you down. You were all down for the count. His call was one of twenty-three we couldn’t respond to on that particular day.”

“Johnny-“ Gordon held out a hand.

It was almost snapped off. “Don’t call me Johnny.”

“John.” Their father’s voice managed to be both warning and worried at the same time.”

His astronaut brother didn’t back down. “This isn’t out of the ordinary. It happens every day. It is happening now. People are dying because we are not there.”

“We can’t save everyone.” His father’s voice was firm.

“I know that, Dad.” John’s expression was exasperation itself. “It doesn’t make it any easier.”

Silence fell again and all Alan could think of was how this whole thing had been aimed at John and how it had obviously reached its target despite Timothy not succeeding in his plan.

Something was burning in his brother. He could see it from here. John was tense and agitated.

It was likely the drugs, but Alan just wanted to climb out of bed and hug him.

“Well now, I think, you could all do with something to eat.” Grandma squeezed John’s arm and he looked down at her as if snapped from a dream. “Don’t look at me like that, young man. I know you haven’t been eating.”

“What?” Scott sat up straighter, his eyes narrowing in on his brother. “John?”

The astronaut rolled his eyes. “Fine. Whatever.” And Grandma was nudging him towards the door.

His father stood up and followed.

Scott eyed Alan a moment, but stayed seated.

As their grandmother and father herded John out the door, Gordon took the opportunity to steal the chair beside Scott.

“Is John okay?” The words fell from Alan’s mouth before he could think twice.

Scott sighed. “He will be.” There was a silent ‘I hope’ after that.

“Eh, he’s just pissed Eos got found out.”

Alan blinked. “What?”

“Gordon!”

“Just trying to lighten the atmosphere. Cool it, bro.”

Alan frowned. “What?”

“Eos electrocuted a guard with his own comms circuit.” Gordon was smirking.

“What? How?”

“Upped the signal power enough to arc through his baldric.”

Alan stared at his brother. “She hurt him?” He turned to Scott. “She can do that?” To us?

“Don’t worry, it is not happening again.”

“He deserved it.” Gordon snarled the words. “Betraying us for money. He’s lucky it was Eos and not Kayo.”

Scott tilted his head. “Kayo hasn’t finished with him yet.”

Alan’s eyes were bugging out. “Who? And why?”

Scott sighed just a little. “The guard outside the dressing room was an accomplice.”

“One of our own?”

“Yes.” That single word said so much. Kayo wasn’t the only person angry at such a betrayal. No doubt whoever it was would have to face the Commander at some point.

Alan had faced an angry Scott before. Not an experience for the faint hearted.

“And Eos was able to electrocute him with his comms?”

“Brains is working on it as we speak. It won’t happen again.”

Scott would never be entirely comfortable with Eos. Alan had to admit he had a few issues of his own having had to scoop up his astronaut brother as he lay dying in space, because of her.

A hand landed on his. “It won’t happen again.”

Alan swallowed. “Good.”

“Well, we’re lucky it happened this once. John found traces of an alien computer program in the z band network. Brains is having conniptions. This one security breach could have destroyed everything.”

“But it didn’t.” Virgil’s voice was quiet, but strong enough to stop the conversation. “We’re all safe. It’s over.” Brown eyes flickered in his direction.

The same brown eyes that had closed on Alan as his brother died in his arms.

Anger flared up. “So, this security breach let Timothy do what he wanted and Virgil died because of it.” Three pairs of eyes widened at Alan’s sharp tone. “How did this happen? How did he get past all our security checks? Kayo is pedantic to the point that I sometime wonder if I’ll be allowed access to anything. How did we not know?”

“Allie, it’s okay.” Again, Virgil’s voice was soft. “We’ll fix it.”

“You died, Virgil!”

“No, I didn’t.” Those eyes blinked slowly.

“You did!”

“Alan!”

And he found himself breathing fast and hard. Scott was holding him down. Gordon had a hand on his leg.

“Calm down, Allie.” Intense blue eyes caught his. “Virgil is safe. You are safe. We will fix this.”

Alan stared up at his big brother, soaking in the reassurance Scott was broadcasting. A deeper breath and he willed his heart rate to slow. He swallowed and managed the briefest of nods.

“The guy had money and resources. Kayo will, no doubt, rake our entire security force over hot coals. We will learn from this experience and it will not happen again.”

“It should not have happened in the first place.” Alan found his voice cold and as Scott flinched, he knew it had hit home.

“Allie…” Virgil looked half asleep and Alan realised that he probably was. “We’ll fix this.”

Alan pressed his lips together and glanced between all three of his brothers before once again fixating on Scott.

“We better.”

-o-o-o-

Jeff followed John out of the hospital room with the full intention of cornering him. The fact his mother was with them was only an inconvenience.

“Mom, could you run ahead and dig up some menus from the cafeteria and perhaps let the nurses station know that the boys are awake?”

His mother eyed him and arched a silver eyebrow. “Certainly.” A flick of that gaze at his son before she turned and walked off.

No doubt he would be paying for that one later.

But first he wanted to speak to John.

“Walk with me?”

The astronaut frowned at him, but nodded once.

Jeff cursed being so slow, but he led his son down to the hospital garden. Security made itself known as Iz appeared from nowhere and he caught a glimpse of Leone not far off. Kayo was laying it on thick, but he couldn’t blame her.

The garden was a small one and this late in the day, quite dark and empty. Most patients had been hustled off to bed and their visitors went with them.

If Iz was seen to lock the door behind them and secure the green patch for them alone, Jeff wasn’t going to argue, just this once.

He found a bench under a large shrub that gave them some privacy and ushered John to sit down beside him as he lowered himself down.

“Dad, I’m okay.”

“That seems to be a theme in this family even when it is a blatant lie.”

That shut his boy up for a moment.

Jeff sighed. “John, when I sent you up there, I knew it was going to be hard. I am sorry.”

“No, Dad. I knew what I was getting into. This is not your fault.”

“Isn’t it? Aren’t I hailed the creator of International Rescue?” He tried hard to catch those turquoise eyes, but John refused to look at him. Jeff let his shoulders drop and sighed. “Pfft. The media. What do they know?”

That got a reaction. Copper eyebrows arched and his son looked up. Jeff took every advantage.

“I may have taken the first steps, but it is you boys who have kept it all going. Lived it. You’ve lived it for ten years. That is five times as long as I have and, trust me, I have guilt for those numbers.”

“Dad-“

He held up a hand. “No. This is where you listen, John.”

Something flashed in those eyes and Jeff’s lips twisted in response. “I set you boys on this path and you have succeeded beyond my wildest dreams. You have made both your mother and I ever so proud.”

John just stared at him, eyes a little wide.

“But there has been a cost. You boys carry scars that have me questioning every decision I ever made.” He swallowed, all of it suddenly threatening to overwhelm. He shifted in his seat. “John, I know you sit up there day in and day out with lives in your hands. I can see that every life lost has as much effect on you as it does your brothers and often even more so because you see more of them.”

Jeff paused and tilted his head. “What’s the average number?”

John blinked. “Excuse me?”

“How many lives are lost per day because we can’t respond?”

There was a flicker of the professional emergency responder and his son’s face fell calm. “Ten to fifteen. It varies. The number includes rescues that fail due to local authorities’ incapability, situations that become more severe than predicted on initial assessment and situations we cannot attend simply because we do not have the resources.”

“And what do you tell these callers?”

“What I can.” John’s voice grew quiet. “We do our best, Dad.”

Little more than breath. “Exactly.” He held his son’s eyes and couldn’t help but see the young man he had once been during that cyclone all those years ago. That same youth and concern. That care for those he couldn’t help.

“What’s the average daily rescue count?”

John blinked. “Uh, it varies between ten and several hundred.”

It was Jeff’s turn to blink. “That many?”

John shrugged. “Well, the statistics were blown during the asteroid crisis with Fischler and the aurora generator was full of hypotheticals.” His son was frowning, his hands expressive.

Jeff grabbed them.

“If you had a choice, all over again, as to whether you would take this path or another, what would you choose?”

The frown he received was castigating. “Dad, that’s asking the ridiculous.”

“No, who do you save, John? Them or yourself.”

“That’s a stupid question. Of course, I, we, choose to save everyone we can. We do it every day, Dad.” His son looked offended.

“Even despite the cost?”

“Of course.” The offense turned to an expression questioning Jeff’s sanity.

“Why?”

“Because it is worth it, Dad. When someone calls for help, they have to know there is someone out there who will answer. That’s what I do, Dad. I’m The Voice Who Answers.”

Jeff couldn’t help but smile. His boys made him so proud. Worried, yes, but so, so proud. His own words from so many years ago, echoed back at him by the very son who enacted them on a daily basis. The son who sacrificed so much to be up there, apart from his family, apart from the world, just so he could do exactly that.

The Voice Who Answers didn’t even consider the question, a question.

Who do you save?

Everyone you can.

-o-o-o-

FIN.


End file.
